


The Four Children

by AHappierYear



Series: Gosh, Risley! [3]
Category: Maurice (1987), Maurice - E. M. Forster, The Longest Journey - E.M. Forster
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Jewish Character, Character Study, Chatting & Messaging, Developing Relationship, Historical, Homophobia, I still have no idea how the tagging system on this site works, Jewish Character, Jewish Holidays, Judaism, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), Letters, M/M, Religion, Secret Relationship, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24003910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHappierYear/pseuds/AHappierYear
Summary: Ansell writes a letter to his four friends, each of which happen to fit the description of one of the four children mentioned in the passover seder. Clive the wise, Risley the wicked, Maurice the simple, and Rickie... the one too heterosexual to ask.
Relationships: Clive Durham/Maurice Hall, Stewart Ansell/Rickie Elliot
Series: Gosh, Risley! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716793
Kudos: 4





	1. Clive Durham, the Wise Child

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Ansell is mentioned as being Jewish very briefly in TLJ, which I knew I had to work into a fic. Originally, I had it so there was a lot more descriptive text of his writing the letters and pondering about Passover and the four children, mostly because I wanted it to be split into chapters and I thought Risley's was too short, but I cut all of that out at the last second. Hopefully it's still coherent.

From Stewart Ansell-  
To one Mr. Clive Durham:

Terribly sorry to hear you'll be leaving us so soon. You've really become one of my greatest friends. Having said that, you absolute ass! Are you that thick? It's very important to me that you understand how selfish you're being by getting kicked out. For me, personally, I'll just be terribly bored, there's no one like you up here. For your sake, think about what this means for you, too. You've a great mind and you shared my ambition of staying up and being a classics professor, didn’t you? Indeed, for the longest time there, I couldn't think of us doing anything else, which was a wonderful daydream to indulge in. Rickie and now you.  
What kind of martyr complex do you have running off with that Hall boy? Do you ever know if you'll be able to get back on your feet? (Knowing you, you will very quickly, but I'm scolding you now, so I'm pretending not to know that.) I expect you to apologize quickly and toddle along back to me like you should. Don't you want to make your mother proud? (That was a joke.)  
Anyway, I thought it best to see you off properly so I'm gathering VR and all our lot for breakfast on Tuesday. I expect to see you there as it might be the last time I'll ever see you in my life. I'll crown you in laurels like a dying emperor, or we'll dump you in a boat filled with petrol on you and toss a cigarette on to give you a proper viking funeral on the lake. Come with a speech prepared if you like.

Cheers,  
Stewart

P.S. Write me about the cow as often as you can as I am still quite obsessed with it. 

\- - - - -

From Clive Durham-  
Stewart,

I am having trouble beginning this letter, I should tell you. There are three sheets of paper on my desk all stacked up willy-nilly, each with some version of "Ansell- Terribly sorry, whinge, whine, etc." written on it. I'll try not to write for too long as I know you've probably things to read and write so I'll start with the important facts first. I am seriously considering coming back, and I do plan to continue your dream with you. I'm thinking I will apologize to the Dean after all. Hall should be coming back, too, if he has any wits.  
It's a funny thing, plans and principles. I am horrible at coming up with plans as they are essentially little stories, and I am not terribly gifted in stories, plus, if one is to tell a story with one's own life there must be lessons and strong pillars of thought involved, which is difficult to conceive of for an aesthete such as myself, although I know some men purposefully live according to no principles whatsoever, but don't you think that's a stance in itself? My morals and my principles are very strong but I have nothing to do with them. After all, what does one do with an anti-theological stance? There is no such thing as an anti-vicar. A socialist, maybe, if you talk to my mother. I appreciated your joke greatly, by the way, you do know how to needle me.  
Speaking of my mother, I don't know why the dean thinks he is one. Shouldn't he let the men of this college do as they please? If they learn nothing, kick them out, yes, but I have been nothing if not a model student, really. One should be left to study at his own pace, and left alone by the powers that be. Keats wouldn’t’ve written what he wrote had he a mustachioed professor breathing down his neck at all times. I know you've skipped a lecture or two to dally about in some dell somewhere. MH & I were doing the same thing. Lecture’s assured, a perfect day and a friend to be with are not, which they don’t seem to understand. Damnation, I'm just realizing he probably knew something about the purpose of our absence. Well, it's no place for him to pry anyway, don't you agree?  
I am off topic. You sent me an invitation, really, although you did ask about the cow, so there is room for philosophy, isn't there? Answer about the cow: does it matter? Yes, it matters a lot, to you especially, I'm sorry I said that, and we'll discuss it further at breakfast. Which I am coming to. That is the point of this letter, in general.  
MH, I'm sure, will be happy to come, although he'd appreciate it if you sent him a separate letter. I think he thinks you look down at him as an intellectually inferior man, which, (and listen, Ansell, you mustn't hate me for this) you tend to do with most men. He’s got these weirdly attractive emotional bursts; he feels very deeply, and is deeply upset at this new development. He needs to be handled carefully, like a woman, almost.  
I am ending this letter. I will see you there. Have lemon squashes, please. 

Your nearest and dearest friend,  
Clive


	2. Vernon Risley, the Wicked Child

From Stewart Ansell-  
VERNON RISLEY:

Ansell again. I am extending the olive branch because one of our mutual friends has been caught up in some muck. D & H’re getting kicked out of school for skipping a lecture together. Afraid the dean knows there’s some sort of affair going on. (There is, but I thought I would make sure you knew- I know you’re never in other people’s business...) I’m holding breakfast to send them off and thought you might like to attend. They tell me you set them up, or something to that effect.  
See you there. 

-Ansell

\- - - -

From Vernon Risley-   
Dear Ansell,

Waste of postage- D would have told me anyways. Of course I’ll be there, but don’t be cheap on the food, and don’t decorate the table with pointless flowers like you do. We’re not dryads, man. Brings attention, which our sort don’t need right now. This all isn’t good for the state of things for Urnings on campus. Tell D I’m angry at him- I haven’t the heart, hm?

V.

P.S. I don’t like the swipe at my nosiness. Maybe I won’t show. You’d order food for me and then I wouldn’t even come to eat it- that’d be funny. I will come, though. Or will I?

Again, V.


	3. Maurice Hall, the Simple Child

From Stewart Ansell-  
Dear Maurice,

Sorry to hear the news, friend. Terribly unfair. I hope your excursion with C was nice, though, it's beautiful country. I’m always saying the wilds around Cambridge are some of the best places on planet Earth, and I’m happy C took you there. Or did you initiate? Fresh air’s good for a brain like ours’, so get out if you feel too angry, which C said you might be. You might want to appeal to the Dean, or apologize to him, maybe? What do you think about your possible expulsion?  
I’m sure C already told you, but I’d like to invite you personally. I’m having breakfast to celebrate your “engagement” with all the lads and should like you to come terribly. I don’t know you too well and I’d like to learn. 

Yours,  
Stewart Ansell. 

\- - - -

From Maurice Hall-  
Dear Stewart,

Glad to receive your letter, and glad to meet you really. Clive screams your praises, but I’ve been shy to meet you. Sometimes I have a difficult time connecting with Clive’s friends, and I heard you have a reputation for not being particularly kind to the rougher sort. Sorry, I shouldn’t say that. Not right to gossip, and not right to gossip to the person in question especially. I’d love to come to your breakfast. I miss poor Risley. He electrifies the room, although that’s not always good.   
As for the expulsion, I think I’m of the majority opinion that it was beastly unfair. The Dean sees us on the motorbike during class and he expels us like that? I suppose we did have things to do at the time. I think they have something against me and Clive. I’ve never had good marks and perhaps they think I’ll limit his studying if we become too close. That’s my theory, anyway.   
I love that you called it our “engagement.” If only! Throw rice as we drive away, it’d be hilarious.

Warm wishes,  
Maurice Hall


	4. Rickie Elliot, the Child Too Young to Ask

From Stewart Ansell-

Dearest Rickie (Ought I address you as Mr. Pembroke, now?), 

My friend! My joy! My Rickie. I feel I must address you as vehemently as I can muster whenever I have the chance to speak to you since we exchange so few letters. I really do miss you. Inclosed is a little volume of Whitman, which reminds me of our time out in the chalk in school. We used to go out and see the trees as he did, heard the rushing of the river, and called to the birds in such a poetic way. 

Here’s the information on me: a little has changed. I am inclined to be a pickier eater in your absence, although I’m not sure why that is. Also, I’ve been attending Synagogue. DO NOT tell any of the chaps up here or they will surely kick me out. It’s been hard enough faking Anglican this long, but rushing off every Saturday morning with a tallis bundled under my arm has been hard to explain. I hope you don’t mind it, I’m still the same Stewart, although it feels strange swearing by saying “Jesus Christ!” Or does being a Jew make it more permissible? 

It isn’t the same here without you, I’ve tried to train that VR fellow to be your replacement, but he’s a sort of evil soul. You take everything with open arms! Too much, I’m afraid. You should save some for me. Anyway, since you’ve been gone, as I’ve said I’ve been hunting for new lads to converse with and have fallen in with quite the odd bunch. I’ll spare you the details; I don’t think you’d be interested. Your letters have been short lately, obviously you have married things to attend to that I shan’t interrupt. 

The point is that two of these fellows have been kicked out of school and we’re holding a sort of good-bye ceremony breakfast for them. I’d like you to come. Cambridge air does good for you and you need some masculine company. You needn’t fear the train, I hear they’ve installed a swell new brake system that’ll keep everyone safe and sound. I am aching to see you, I cannot even tell you. 

Tell me everything in your letter. Spare me no details, because I will know if you do, and come and slit your throat. I have been ending letters in a threat recently, I think it’s great fun. Hit me with your best one, let’s be frightening together!

Love,

Stewed Prunes

\- - - -

From Richard Elliot-

Steeeeewart...

You torment me! I feel so guilty every time I receive one of your letters. I feel as though you’re tugging on my hair again, dragging me across the county to sit back in the grass with you. We will always be friends, don’t you worry. There are more certanties than people pretend in life and we are one of them. I’m sure you are doing well up at school as well. I’d like to think no-one can replace me in the chalk depression but gosh knows I’m not particularly special. I won’t comment on your Jewishness because I don’t know anything about it. Do you still believe in Heaven?

Life up here is going fine. If I might ask, why did your friends get themselves kicked out? I was preparing to put pen to paper fretting that I shouldn’t like to meet any criminals, but I just met a shepherd at my aunt’s house who was removed from school for compulsive stealing, and he was charming. I do hope it's something innocuous like pranks, or insubordination, or something. Tell me when before I visit, if you have the time to write (which I know you do.)

Yes, I will come. I am excited to see you there. I will bring some of the Mrs.’ baking, maybe danishes. Here’s my threat: I’ll never write to you again if you don’t respond immediately. How’s that?

Yours,

Richard Elliot

(You should still call me Rickie, you know I’ll be sad if you don’t, but I have to be formally signing off letters now. A reflex.)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Some context for gentiles: A big part of passover is emphasizing necessity of teaching our children Jewish history. When you tell the story of how the Jews were freed from Egypt, there is a tradition of reading about the four possible reactions to the story. The wise child thinks over what the Jew's persecution means in context and how it relates to the things they have been taught. The wicked child refuses to interact with the story unless they can be told what it means to them specifically, ignoring the sanctity and awe of the story. However, the wise and the wicked must coexist as men who both think deeply about the world around them. The simple child and the child too young to ask must be explained the story in a way they can understand.
> 
> Perhaps it is a little insensitive to my enslaved ancestors to apply this to a silly fan fiction, but I think these are all normal reactions to tales of oppression. The intellectual, the recalcitrant, the innocent, and the one who is outside of the minority group or maybe refuses to understand.


End file.
